Catsuits
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Life sucked right now. The Commonwealth was falling apart, the Abyss was nearing Known Space, and, as ever, Harper couldn't get laid. Sometimes he felt that resistance was futile.


_A/N_

 _Well, I've started watching season 4 of_ Andromeda _. Better than season 3 so far, but that's not saying much. And hey, it only took two episodes before we got to "eye candy," and three episodes until "hey, Dylan's making out. Again." Still, at least Molly was a pre-existing character. Anyway, on the subject of blonde eye candy, gave me the idea to drabble this up._

* * *

 **Catsuits**

"Here's to Seamus Zelazny Harper. Lieutenant onboard Andromeda Ascendant. Finest mind in the Three Galaxies. Grand Admiral of the friend zone."

Someone, on some planet, at some time, said that you shouldn't drink alone. Harper didn't know who, or what that someone was, and he didn't care either. But he had to admit, that unidentified individual had a point. Because hanging out on a drift that had once been called _Deep Space 9_ was proving that saying – the alcohol sucked, there were no chances of gambling, and the only person who might have heard his monologue was a perseid who looked like he didn't even know what the word "fun" meant.

 _Just my luck._

He took another swill of romulan ale. He'd never met a romulan before. Last he'd heard, their homeworld had been destroyed by a nova bomb in the Long Night, the event being the basis for a movie that had divided opinion throughout Known Space. But if romulan ale's only source was the romulans' homeworld, then he had a problem.

"Hell," he said, putting the drink down, the ale having reached the stage that he was talking to himself. "I've got tonnes of problems."

The perseid on the other end of the counter looked up at him.

"Yeah, you heard me," he said. "I've got problems. Tall, dark and ugly is bearing down on us, and the Commonwealth is barely holding together. It ain't helping that every sucker within this coalition of suckers thinks that Dylan's going to betray it. Tyr's probably doing whatever the hell scumbag Neitzscheans do, and the two most gorgeous babes this side of the Milky Way were taken to a prison on Terezed this morning."

"That's a lot of problems," the perseid murmured.

"Ah, what would you know?" Harper asked, taking another swig of the ale. "Only pointy thing you care about is the one that's on your chin."

The perseid made no sound. Or if he did, Harper didn't hear it over the sound of his belch.

Ron-Dai and Ti-Ki. Those silver suits, their blonde hair, those gazongas attached to their chests…figured they'd be on Citizen Eight's payroll (well, technically all the refit crew had been, but whatever). It figured that the most gorgeous girls he'd seen since Enga's Redoubt. Figured that despite the word of the Prescient, that he'd find his destiny in the arms of two gorgeous babes (well, maybe not in those exact words), that destiny would take it up the arse before being flushed out the airlock.

"You are drunk."

He belched. _No shit._

"Very, drunk."

He looked up to find the source of the voice, expecting to find Rommie – the android that would never be his bunk buddy, but always his damn mother. What he hadn't expected to find was-

"Ron-Dai? Ti-Ki?"

It had to be them. Silver suit. Blonde hair. One of them at least – the ale had made his vision blurry, but-

"I am not familiar with these names," the woman said.

"Oh," he said. He still kept his gaze upwards. Through the fog of his intoxication, the lighthouse of gazongas called out to him.

"I am Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One," the woman said. "But you may call me Seven."

"Huh," Harper said, barely having heard any of that. "Least you're not Eight, amirite?"

"I do not understand the reference."

"Ah, never mind." He looked around the near-empty room. "Do you want a seat? Plenty of room."

"I prefer to stand. It is more efficient."

"Huh," Harper said. He smiled, trying to stop himself from letting his body purge itself of the poison running through it. "Well, there's no-one out here more efficient than yours truly. Seamus Zelazny Harper. I mean, have you even met me, babe?"

"No."

"Ah, well…" He smiled. "Where you been then?"

"On a borg cube for eighteen years. On the USS Voyager for four years. On Voyager Drift for-"

"Um, yeah," Harper said. "Very nice. But I was more wondering-"

"Do you wish to copulate?"

This time, Harper did throw up. The urgoth bartender cursed. Harper let out a half-hearted apology.

 _Is this happening?_ He wondered.

"You are intoxicated, and your social graces are diminished, even by my standards," said the woman called Seven. Yet I see how your pupils are dilated, and how your perspiration has increased. I see your field of vision is focused mainly on my reproductive tracts, indicating sexual arousal."

"Um…the thing is…"

"And that you have, as the saying goes, a rocket in your pocket. In other words, an increased blood flow to your joint reproductive/urination organ."

"Um…" Harper pondered life, the universe, and everything. Everything also including the dichotomy that he was in. Woman who wanted to screw him. Woman he wanted to screw. Surely…surely there was a third party, right?

"Are you in love with me, Mister Harper?" she asked.

"Um…well…" Harper's mind raced. Was there a polite way of saying 'no, I'm not, but I've had a dry spell for three years, and God damn you're hot, and I'd get it on right here and now if not for the urgoth and perseid nearby?'

"Do you wish to copulate?"

The perseid got up and left.

"There is no need to be ashamed. The reproductive drive is present in almost every sapient species. It is, I am told, to be human."

"Yeah, well…" Harper slowly, shakily, got to his feet. _Destiny, baby. Destiny has finally arrived._ "I'm willing to be human all you want."

She stood there. He stood there.

"Um…"

"Is there more to this ritual?" she asked. "Or is it the period where we take off our clothes?"

Harper glanced at the urgoth. He was just standing there. As if waiting for the show to begin.

 _Perv._

But he couldn't blame him. God those gazongas were huge. God those lips were big. Lips that would slowly…slowly…

"Harper, what the Hell are you doing?!"

 _Oh no._

It was Rommie.

"Who is this?!"

"I am Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One," said the other gorgeous doll in the room. "This organic was in the process of beginning the rite of human male-female mating, and-

Harper didn't hear anymore. He found himself being dragged by the ear instead.

"One hour," the android mused. "One hour, and I find you drinking romulan ale-"

"It was just one, I swear!"

"And getting it on with…with…that bimbo!"

"Rommie, are you jealous? Because you know I'm always open to beginning the rite of human male-female mating with-"

He didn't hear anymore.

That was what happened when an android sedated you.


End file.
